VIGIL
FIRST-PRIZE POEM Among the leaves the cool winds drift and sigh, And croon soft songs to tell that night is nigh; The air is fragrant as a dewwet rose, The sickle moon is silvering in the sky. Down in the deep glade runs the shining stream— Pale moonlit waters, shimmering like a dream Of mermaid’s hair and fluttering elfin grace ... Is it a faery light or the sad moon’s gleam ? What though the moon is sad, each bird asleep. Our lonely watch in silent thought we keep; We drink in beauty from the glimmering night, Though day must wane and dew-wet roses weep. —FITZIE MORRIS (aged 15).
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SUNAK19271224.2.177.12
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Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 236, 24 December 1927, Page 25
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108VIGIL Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 236, 24 December 1927, Page 25
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